Best Friends Forevers
by Flying Penguinz
Summary: Because Amelie and Myrnin have been friends for centuries, she won't let him get away with sh-t.


"Myrnin," Amelie said with an annoyed expression upon her pouty face, "are you _ever_ going to get around to teaching Claire how to use an abacus properly?" She stopped her pacing to look up at him with her cold you'd-better-do-this-for-me-or-else-I'll-marry-Oliver-or-something look.

Myrnin sighed from atop one of Amelie's bookshelves he'd placed himself on. "Amelie," he said as he looked down at her, "why do I even _have_ to?"

"Because she's been pestering me about it for the past few days. I was talking about one of our many adventures in China to her, and, somehow, she came up with the question of how to use an abacus. I told her _you_ would teach her."

"Why didn't you just show her yourself?" he complained.

"It is the Founder's responsibility to dole out the more trivial, unimportant jobs in Morganville," Amelie said with a barely hidden smirk.

Myrnin muttered something unrepeatable about hippos and the similarities between an angry one and the Founder.

Amelie spun around. "Excuse me?"

Myrnin groaned and hit his head against the wall for good measure. "_Amelie_. Do you have any idea just how busy I've been lately? I hardly have time to feed anymore, I'm working myself so hard."

"Oh, really?" Myrnin nodded dramatically. "Then why, pray tell, did Claire call me and inform me that all you did Tuesday was play the horn trumpet in an old Victorian ensemble?"

If Myrnin could have blushed, he would have.

"You weren't supposed to find out about that," Myrnin muttered.

"Pardon?" Amelie said, placing a hand to her ear as she learned toward him. "I didn't quite catch that." Myrnin swore that woman just grew horns and a forked tail.

Myrnin jumped off the top of the bookshelf and laid himself out on her sofa.

"You're right. I could never expect you to understand, Amelie. I mean, do you even know how hard it is turning oxygen into carbon dioxide all day long? Are you so soulless that you don't breathe throughout the whole day? Do you?" Myrnin wiped at his eyes with the corner of his sleeve and he sniffed.

"Myrnin," she said dryly, "we've been friends for centuries. This means I know when you're truly crying. Now, go fetch Claire and teach her how to use an abacus."

"Fine." Myrnin stood, straightened his silk vest, and flipped his hair out of his face. "But know this, Amelie: I will go bring back Samuel from the dead, buy you a kitten and name it Anna-Marie, find you an orphaned child who will become your daughter named Allison—who you will nickname 'Allie'—and creep up on you late one night, and _punch_ you in the _eye_. With_out_ hesitation."

And with that being Myrnin's goodbye, he opened a portal, did a back flip through it, and snapped the portal shut.

When he got to his lab, he kicked an empty jar that had once held his crystals, very long ago. He shoved his hands in his pockets and fell into his favorite chair.

"Well," he said dejectedly, "I suppose while I await Claire's arrival, I can tell myself a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a man named… Hmm." He stopped as he searched for the perfect name that would bring this story absolute perfection in just the first sentence. "Once upon a time," he started again, "there was a man named Myrnin.

"His home was a cave and he lived off raw rats and gnomes—raw rats and gnomes _only_. He was quite a lovely man, but no one came close enough to realize. So this man grew quite sad. But, because this lovely man with amazing hair and smexy muscles and a gorgeous face was so beautiful, a snail came along and struck up a conversation with Myrnin.

"'Hello, Myrnin,' said the little snail, 'my name's Derpey.'

"'How lovely, Derpey. I've a question for you: Do snails _really_ die if salt is poured on their soft insides?'"

Myrnin stopped at this point in his story to start laughing hysterically for a reason unknown to him. When he calmed back down, he continued the tale.

"Derpey looked utterly perplexed. 'Why would you asked such a thing?' Derpey wondered.

"'Well,' said Myrnin to the little thing, 'I was just wondering.' And with a look of absolute evil, Myrnin killed the snail with the salt shaker Myrnin used for his raw rats and gnomes.

"The end," Myrnin finished epically.

Claire looked up from the microscope she'd been looking through. "Um, Myrnin?"

Myrnin jumped in his seat. "Claire! What are you _doing _here?"

"…Working…"

"And—did you hear that all?"

Claire nodded. "Unfortunately."

Myrnin was so embarrassed. He was so embarrassed that he showed Claire how to use an abacus with all the politeness and patience he could manage, gave her one of his many abacuses, and sent Claire off on her merry way.

**~Epilogue~**

Claire told Amelie how happy she was Myrnin _finally_ taught her how to use an abacus. She also told Amelie how Myrnin gave her one of them for her very own to keep forever.

Amelie went off and spouted crap to Myrnin—crap that Myrnin only _half _heard, because he wouldn't've been a_ real_ man if he actually listened to the whole thing. But, in the end, Amelie ended up apologizing—which Myrnin had her repeat so he could record it on tape—and they became friends again.

Myrnin typed up his story and became a famous children's author and there was fan mail from all over the country.

…Not really, but Myrnin could dream, couldn't he?

**~The End~**


End file.
